


December 4, 2019

by VR_Trakowski



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019 [4]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: AU, F/M, Ficmas, GSR - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VR_Trakowski/pseuds/VR_Trakowski
Summary: Christmas in the woods.
Relationships: Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle
Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561948
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	December 4, 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Happy December! I'm attempting the [31 Days of Ficmas](https://doctorroseprompts.tumblr.com/post/189072230848/thanks-to-the-overwhelming-support-by-our) prompts, which are apparently open to any fandom.
> 
> I do reserve the right to quit at any time. :P
> 
> This is set in the AU of my very old story [The Heart of the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666139), freshly posted to this site but dating from 2006 (!). It won't make much sense if you haven't read that one, I'm afraid. The prompt is "tree".

Once upon a time...for all good stories start in similar fashion...there was a forest. It was ancient and cool and shadowy, and it lay in the northern part of the world - divided with roads and pocked with towns, but still vast enough to deserve the name. It had seen centuries come and go, and it was home to any number of wild creatures, from insects and mice to rare huge bears and all sorts of birds. 

And, of course, there were trees. Leafy trees of many kinds, tall and small, but most of the forest was evergreens, so many that it held its color all the year round, the deep dark green that turned to rust-red underfoot. The branches were often so thick that in places snow rarely reached the ground, but in more open spaces it lay deep, brilliant white in the sunlight and glowing delicately under the moon. 

In one such space grew a young fir, no different from any other but that, uncrowded, it was full-branched and symmetrical, trunk unwarped by the struggle for light. And on one short winter day, when the sun struck brilliance from every icicle and scattered glitter on the snow, a crowd of children on skis found the tree. 

“Miss Sara! Miss Sara! What about this one?” There were shrieks and laughter amid the bright gloves and scarves, and their teacher, a slender woman whose brown hair was flyaway beneath her own knitted cap, slid to an expert stop in the crowd and looked the tree over with growing approval. 

“That’s an excellent tree. Good job! Take a look, everybody; is it even all the way around?” 

After much discussion and a little argument, in the end everyone agreed, and careful photos were taken with Miss Sara’s phone before the children went back the way they’d come. 

The next day, they returned; not with an axe and ropes, but with packs full of ornaments and garlands of silver and gold. The weather was grey and grim, but the children paid it no mind, swarming over the tree to decorate every branch with little sense of symmetry but plenty of enthusiasm. Miss Sara wired on candles that ran on batteries, and when they were finished, she placed the crowning touch - a delicately carved filigree star. 

There were cheers and laughter and cocoa from vacuum flasks, and more photographs; the colors glowed against the snow and the darkening sky, a bit of magic where none had been. 

The children fled home as it began to snow, and for a while the woods were quiet, hushed by the thick flakes spiraling down from the clouds. 

Then a faint fairy tinkle broke the silence, followed by the hiss of runners on snow. Into the clearing came a small sleigh pulled by one sturdy reindeer, whose antlers bore brave ribbons and silver bells and the tiniest of wooden stars. 

Miss Sara held the reins; behind her sat a man whose grizzled hair and beard were all but hidden by his cap and scarf. Sara pulled the reindeer to a halt. 

For a moment there was silence again; the tree’s lights shone in the darkness, a warm and flickering beacon laced with sparks of red and blue and gold. 

“It’s magnificent,” the man said finally, voice low. “Your kids did a wonderful job.” 

Sara laughed and slid out of the sleigh, stepping forward to pat the reindeer on his neck. “Yes, they did. What do you think, Reynard?” she said to the reindeer, who merely flicked an ear in her direction. 

The man snorted and followed. “He only cares if you decorate with edibles.” 

“After Christmas. We have peanut butter cones and popcorn strings galore ready for Boxing Day; the birds will have a great celebration.” Sara put her arm around his waist, snuggling close as he returned the embrace. “Thanks for this idea, Gil. It’s so much nicer than cutting it down and dragging it back.” 

A smile showed itself over the scarf. “And you can use it again next year.” 

“The ultimate recycling - at least until it gets too tall.” 

They stood for a while, admiring the glory of the tree. The snow caught on the tips of Sara’s hair and starred the top of Gil’s cap, but they didn’t seem to notice - until Sara began to shiver. 

“That’s it,” Gil said at once, pulling her closer. “Time to go home.” 

Sara laughed again and tugged down his scarf. “In a minute. I’m sure I stashed some mistletoe in the branches somewhere…” 

The tree was forgotten in the kisses that followed, until Reynard, bored, gave a snort. The crunch of snow woke the lovers from their trance in time to see him start to walk away into the woods, the sleigh gliding behind him. 

Sara yelped and dashed after. _“Reynard!_ You bad deer!” 

Gil roared with laughter and followed, shouting something about trolls. 

And the tree shone on. 


End file.
